I couldn't create anything but my drunkness,
Why do we need to go away from this madness?
I need to improve it,
I need to challenge it,
But instead, I choose to cry,
Cry as if anyone can hear me,
In this melodramatic kind of me.
I felt as no-one can help me,
Which I was right.
No-one could help me but the red-wine,
Instead of the corrupted earth, we have done.